


Two of Swords, Eight of Cups Reversed

by solona



Series: Ten of Wands [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Goodbyes, Heartache, Missing Scene, Other, Takes place during book ten, Wheel of Fortune, because he had to go back and change right??, except there aren't any goodbyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 14:26:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14750610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solona/pseuds/solona
Summary: “Ah, Pepi. Come to see me off?” He gave a sorry smile at the seal point cat’s purr. Julian gave her a last, long stroke from her ears to the tip of her tail. Maker... was he really going to get emotional saying goodbye to a cat? Well… wouldn’t be the first time, if he was being wholly honest-- and today was a day of sobering truths.





	Two of Swords, Eight of Cups Reversed

**Author's Note:**

> Ft. my apprentice Ahnet.

Pasha’s cottage was dark and silent. They weren’t here. He’d hoped... he’d hoped to see them-- to even catch a glimpse of them before he....

Well. That was of no matter. He’d been foolish to allow such a fantasy, to dream of such sweetness and goodbyes. Luck had never held such room for his sentiment. Julian squared his shoulders with a huff. Ah, this damned uniform. He wondered briefly how long it had taken Pasha to master such a task. All the buttons and layers.... Gods alive, did he wish on bitter wish that Ahnet would walk thought that door. _This had been so much easier with her here to help... this would all be so much easier with her here._ Most things, he realized, and not for the first time, were easier with her by his side.

In his musings, he’d begun to get himself tangled. The shirt was caught, impossibly twisted, around his arm and neck. Julian cursed under his breath as he struggled and freed himself, shucking off the contemptible thing and hurriedly pulling on his own clothes. The familiar ensemble was as much a small comfort as it was a convince. He held nothing now that could be traced back to his sister. She was safe. If he could give her nothing but that and heartbreak after heartbreak... well, at least she’d be safe.

The key felt heavy and damning in his pocket. He hoped against hope Ahnet wouldn’t go down there, wouldn’t ever see him for who he truly was... but he knew she would. Just as he knew he would hurt her before the night ran out. But she would do what was needed.

For a fleeting moment, he entertained a whim to root though Pasha’s cupboards for one last drink. One for courage.

But he had one for luck, didn’t he? His fingertips ghosted along his lips at the memory of that last and solemn kiss before his descent.

He savored a moment, in the protective shroud of dark and silence, in the safety and warmth of his sister’s home. She’d made such a life for herself-- a good life. She thrived, she always had. And why would she have done otherwise? Just look at their respective lives, their dichotomy. Pasha had never needed him, but Julian had always needed her: needed her to keep him out of trouble or get him _out_ of trouble, to put a good boot to his ass when he tried his hardest to drown himself in drink or his own wallowing... or, more often than not, _both_. She’d always been so capable, so strong. He was proud of her, more than he could ever say-- but he swore to himself, if he ever got the chance to, he’d sing her praises until both of their days were done.

He had to do this for her. For both of them.

He opened the door. It was dusk, the sun below his view. He hoped the lighting as better where the countess was.

Pepi bumped against his ankle, and Julian bet at the knee to give her a scratch behind the ears. “Ah, Pepi. Come to see me off?” He gave a sorry smile at the seal point cat’s purr. He gave her a last, long stroke from her ears to the tip of her tail. Maker... was he really going to get emotional saying goodbye to a cat? Well... wouldn’t be the first time, if he was being wholly honest-- and today was a day of sobering truths.

“Take care of Pasha for me, Pepi. Keep her company like you have been all these years... don’t let her be too sad.”

The cat blinked large eyes at him before taking off into the garden after a bug. It a was a good moment. Yet even so... he was alone. And he was frightened. He needed to leave, he needed to do what needed to be done-- Julian knew this, painfully well, but he couldn’t see to step out from the safety of the cottage.

Just a moment more. A breath. That was all he’d allow himself. Julian closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the door frame. He was a coward. He was weak and useless. It was only a single step, followed by however many others. But it was that crucial step, that irrevocable first step, that had him petrified. It was a damming and damned thing. But more than that, he reminded himself for what must have been the thousandth time, it was unavoidable. Wasn’t this the confrontation he’d been racing towards, headlong, since he returned to this blighted, beautiful city? He cursed himself now, for every reckless action and lean escape. Where was that man now? Where what that dauntless disregard and unerring bravado?

But, ah, how quickly that had left him. Ahnet… she made him brave, of that he was of one mind. But she had inspired a kind of caution in him, too. He had something to lose and something to protect. He cared, now, about being there for her-- about being there at all.

 He was grateful then, achingly grateful, for all the times he’d drunk in the sight of her, for every moment he'd lost himself in her presence.

With a final, heavy breath, Julian crossed the threshold into the nearing night.

He pressed a kiss to the sleeve of his overcoat… one for luck. Gods help him, he hoped she wouldn’t need it.


End file.
